


The Dating Games

by Rehlia



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Dating, Drunken Flirting, Drunken Kissing, F/F, F/M, Femslash, Flirting, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Human/Monster Romance, Kissing, Multi, Mutual Pining, Older Characters, Pining, Puns & Word Play, Reader is different in every chapter, Requited Love, Roommates, Size Difference, Suggestive Themes, You get to date everyone, bar/pub
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 19:27:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16225748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rehlia/pseuds/Rehlia
Summary: In which you, the reader character, get to date a different monster in each chapter, because dating is fun.





	1. Tabletop Dating

**Author's Note:**

> More sfw fic for... reasons lol.
> 
> [You can regularly vote on which of my fics I should work on next on my tumblr!](https://rehlia.tumblr.com/)

You like the way his scarf smells.

It’s a smell just like him: loud and attention-grabbing, a blend of tomato sauce, washing powder, and a chalky musk that stirs something deep inside of you. You smell it every single time he walks past you in the tiny kitchen, the fabric fluttering behind him as his wide steps carry him from the cupboards to the table to the stove and back. The constant repetition of pause and movement, pause and movement means that the smell hits you anew every time, that you have no chance to get used to it and ignore it, have it fade into the background like it normally does. You know his smell well after having been his friend for a while now, but having it constantly wafted into your face like this…

It’s driving you crazy.

“HUMAN, COULD YOU PLEASE PASS ME THE INGREDIENTS?”

“Sure, Paps.” You hand him the chopped vegetables, dumping the cutting board in the sink after and cleaning it while you’re at it. Less work for later. You turn to wipe the table, too.

Papyrus bustles at the stove preparing his pasta sauce with the vegetables, finally lowering the heat to let it simmer for a while. He’s come a long way since you first met him, worked his way steadily but surely from an absolute kitchen disaster to a level of competence that surprised everyone around him. He’s a really good cook, by now.

“NOW THAT’S GONNA SIT THERE FOR A WHILE,” he declares. “HOW ABOUT WE HAVE SOME FUN IN THE MEANTIME?”

“Sure! You wanna watch some MTTTV or -”

You feel his large frame come up behind you, trapping you between his body and the table. 

“NO, HUMAN. I MEANT SOMETHING… FUN.” 

Heat washes over your body. Oh no. 

You’ve had a crush on him for a while now. Is this the day you get busted?! 

“FUN LIKE… A DATE! AS ALWAYS, I AM WEARING MY SPECIAL DATE CLOTHING UNDER MY REGULAR CLOTHING! THE GREAT PAPYRUS COMES PREPARED, NYEH HEH HEH!”

“Oh. Oh! Right. Dating. Of course.” 

You feel relieved and disappointed. Relieved that he didn’t catch you mooning after him, but also disappointed about it. You turn around to smile up at him and find him looking at you with a thoughtful look. 

“Papyrus?” 

“HUMAN.” 

“Yes?”

“I HAVE… A PROPOSAL.” 

“Y-yes??”

“I KNOW WHEN WE DATE WE USUALLY KEEP THINGS FRIENDLY, LIKE THE SPLENDID FRIENDS WE ARE. HOWEVER…”

Oh no!! Or should that be oh yes??

“I COULDN’T HELP BUT NOTICE SOME THINGS. THINGS LIKE WISHING TO BE CLOSER TO A SPECIAL PERSON WHO ALREADY LIKES YOU AND THINKS YOU ARE COOL. THINGS LIKE STEALING GLANCES AT THAT PERSON. THINGS LIKE WISHING YOU COULD BE MORE THAN A SPECIAL FRIEND TO THAT PERSON.”

Oh my god??

“THAT MUST BE HOW YOU FEEL RIGHT NOW! AND NOT AT ALL HOW I FEEL OR ANYTHING! THEREFORE I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WOULD LIKE TO ASK YOU OUT ON A DATE! BECAUSE I AM VERY GREAT AND WANT TO FULFIL YOUR WISHES!!”

By now, he’s clearly sweating and blushing. Honestly though, so are you. 

“I would love that Papyrus,” you tell him earnestly. 

When he beams at you with genuine joy and excitement, even more so than before, you feel as though all your dreams are coming true.


	2. Throneroom Dating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Asgore needs a hug. 
> 
> [You can regularly vote on which of my fics I should work on next on my tumblr!](https://rehlia.tumblr.com/)

Asgore’s throne is magnificent, a work of art in gold and purple that still manages not to overtake the room it resides in, instead blending with the smooth, intricately patterned tiles, the pictures on the walls, the more modern building he has taken up as his residence up on the surface with its large windows on both sides of the room.

It befits him as he sits on it, you think, the splendor of it matching the grandeur of his armour, his cloak, the delta rune that holds the fabric together in front of his chest, his grand size and full beard. Asgore is majestic no matter how you look at him, and it is only in the way he holds his body that the truth lying underneath is revealed; the way his shoulders droop betraying his desire to be not quite so intimidating, the way he smiles showing his kind nature, the way his eyes droop revealing the pain he carries from the times where he felt he had to put his kindness aside for the good of everyone else.

He sits on his throne now with his spine ramrod straight, his trident firmly in his hand, the picture perfect image of a king. He pose slumps fractionally when he spots you as you walk up to him, a sign of his trust in you.

“How was court?” You ask, sliding next to him and resting your hand in his massive paw. It swallows your hand completely when he closes his furred fingers around it.

“A little tiring,” he allows, giving you a soft smile. “We have come far ever since we left the Underground, but we still have further to go.”

You drag your fingers over the soft fur in his hand, feel the individual strands of fine hair against their tips. “Still no progress on those laws?” You ask.

“There is progress. I would like for it to be faster, that is all.” He looks up thoughtfully and continues to speak, allowing himself to share his burdens with you. You like it when he does that, you like it when he trusts you, you like knowing that he doesn’t have to carry all of this by himself. The tension you see in his body tells you that he needs this, that he maybe needs something more too. “It is… not always easy, to deal with the complexities of the human political and legal systems,” he says. “After being the sole ruler of the Underground for so long, it can be difficult to have so many restrictions to consider.” His eyes grow softer, somber and melancholic, as he continues. “Ah, but then it is probably for the best. My reign alone… I did so many things that were - “

You untangle your hand from his and raise it, stroke it gently over the side of his face, over the coarse blonde hair of his beard.

“I know you regret it,” you tell him quietly. He had told you, early after you befriended each other, what he had done. It had put a strain on your relationship for a good while before you had come to accept his past. You don’t approve, obviously, but you have decided to accept him as he his, terrible flaws and terrible past and all.

He turns his head, presses the side of his face against your small palm and breathes deeply, enjoying this simple bit of closeness for what it is.

Asgore never asks for more than what you give him, even now, even when you want him to.

“I apologise,” he tells you. “I did not want to sour your good mood.”

“Hey, you know you can always talk to me,” you say, wanting him to understand that you’re there for him no matter what. That’s what friends do, after all. 

Like so often recently, your touches and looks linger. Neither of you moves, completely wrapped up in each other’s presence. 

Your feelings of friendship had turned into something else a while ago. By now… you find it harder and harder to suppress what you’re really feeling, especially since your friendship is such a close and physically affectionate one. 

Asgore looks so sad and tired, and you want nothing more but to hold him until he feels better. You know he’s lonely, has been lonely since his wife left him all those years ago. 

“Asgore…” 

He looks up at you. You don’t know where your sudden courage is coming from, but you feel it like fire in your limbs, in your mouth, in your heart. 

“I, uhm… I feel like it would do you good to distract yourself a little,” you begin, insides squirming. You hope your voice doesn’t squeak. “So I thought… would you like to go on a date? With me, I mean?” 

Now it’s out there. 

Asgore looks surprised and you feel your heart practically exploding in your chest with how hard it’s beating, but then he smiles at you, gentle and hopeful. 

“I think I would quite enjoy such a thing with you,” he says. 

“Oh good, then me feeling like I was going to die from anxiety wasn’t for nothing,” you blurt out, grinning like a fool while your heart does flips inside you. 

His deep, bassy and most importantly happy laughter makes you smile even more.


	3. Doctor Dating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gaster is a big nerd. 
> 
> [You can regularly vote on which of my fics I should work on next on my tumblr!](https://rehlia.tumblr.com/)

The lab is cold. There’s a blinding light above you and the chair you sit on is uncomfortable, the air is stale and smells like chemicals. A shiver runs down your body and you can feel goosebumps spreading on your skin.

“Next.” 

The voice is low, quiet and smooth, speaking in a way that sounds clinical and detached.

You stand up and move from the waiting area into the actual laboratory. This is where the Doctor conducts his checkups, which is what you’re here for. 

The doctor is a monster, a solid mass of black, something that looks like a mixture of slime and smoke, solid at the centre and wispy like fog at the edges of his form. His head and hands are the only things about him that are white and both are damaged; two deep cracks run over the top of his right and the underside of his left eye, and there are large, round holes in the palms of his skeletal looking hands. His mouth is a black gash across his face and there are tiny lights floating in the gaping black holes that are his eyes. A lab coat covers his arms and torso, although there’s enough of an opening for you to see some of his upper body, while his lower limbs are covered by a pair of pants. His feet are in expensive leather shoes. He’s holding a clipboard and a pen, writing something down on a piece of paper. 

He’s looking extremely professional, extremely prim and proper, and extremely hot. 

“Let’s begin. Resting pulse…” Doctor Gaster touches your wrist, his fingers finding your pulse with practiced precision. You feel hot. 

“Hmmm. As always, your pulse is elevated,” Doctor Gaster says. “The past few times it was the same, and yet you kept denying that you need a prescription. Will you finally see reason today?” 

“Uhm, well you see…” you begin. 

“I really must insist that an elevated pulse is not healthy,” he continues. “It would be in your best interest to do something about it. If you do not trust my opinion as a monster doctor, I can refer you to - “

“N-no, no, that’s not the problem, that won’t be necessary,” you stammer, cutting him off before he can go on a longer tangent about his good connections in the medical and scientific community. Even though hearing that is hot to you, too. “No, it’s something else. I actually came to talk to you about it.” 

“Oh? Well, I am listening,” he tells you, staring down at you with his sharp eyelights, entirely focused on you. 

God, having his sole attention like that… your heart speeds up even more. You can see his eye lights flicker down briefly, as he’s still touching your pulse point. He must have felt that. It’s only a second though, and then he’s looking you in the eyes again. 

Waiting. 

“Well, you see… it’s… “ You take a deep breath and force it out. “It’s because I like you. I’ve had a crush on you ever since I first came to you for a checkup when my regular doc was ill and I had to find a substitute. I don’t know. I just saw you and I liked you immediately. My pulse is so fast because I get nervous being around you.”

Doctor Gaster looks completely baffled at your explanation, an expression you’ve never seen on him before. It looks extremely cute on his otherwise so serious face. You like it. 

“So what I wanted to ask is… would you like to go on a date with me?” 

“A date? With me?” He looks extremely surprised. 

“Yes… If you want, I mean…” 

Were you too forwards? What if he doesn’t like you that way? Maybe it’s uncomfortable for him to hear one of his patients say that - 

Oh. 

Oh, he’s blushing. He’s very much blushing. 

“I can’t say this ever happened to me before,” Doctor Gaster says. “But… I also can’t say it never crossed my mind…”

You feel your eyes widen at the implication. His hand stays on your pulse point, but you can feel his fingers starting to caress your skin a little. His other hand moves up to hold yours. 

“So… yes?” you confirm. 

“Yes.”

“Oh my god.” 

He squeezes his hands and looks into your eyes with affection. Then he speaks again. 

“The manuals on human dating etiquette state that one must provide emotional and physical support after a confession to soothe the partner,” he says. “Am I providing you with adequate aftercare?” 

It is only your love for this giant nerd that prevents you from laughing out loud. 

“You’re doing great. Slathering me in that good old aftercare, manual man.”

“I never doubted it, I just thought it was polite to ask,” he says haughtily

You’re still giggling when the two of you walk out of his lab for your first date. He’s just too cute.


	4. Pub Dates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this one you're a little saucy. 
> 
> [You can regularly vote on which of my fics I should work on next on my tumblr!](https://rehlia.tumblr.com/)

You trail your fingers over the rim of your glass, watching the bartender in his tightly-cut vest polish a glass. You’re reasonably sure that this is a ruse to appear calm while he is nothing of the sort, a calming action to hide his agitation. The flames on his head are unsteady and alternating between rising high and burning low, a shifting back and forth that betrays his emotional state.

Licking your lips causes the flames to rise and you enjoy the power you have over him.

You’ve been at it for a while.

The reviews for this bar had been excellent; no negatives at all, the worst one still praised the atmosphere and the owner, merely criticising the greasiness of the food, which is not what you came for.

You came to have fun.

Fun.

Fun of a very special sort that you think you might be getting tonight if the state of the bartender is anything to go by.

The low-cut dress hugs your figure and encourages any passer-by to take a closer look at what you have to display, the necklace dipping deep between the valley of your breasts, your high-heels shaping your legs. Nothing is left to the imagination. Just the way you wanted it for this evening.

Dating can be boring, but in this monster bar called Grillby’s there’s something new to be had, something you haven’t experienced yet and that makes the challenge of trying to obtain it all the more fun for you.

The game is on.

Of course it still required patience. When you had entered there had been several options that interested you: a punk hamster, a red bird, a drunk bunny, a joke-telling skeleton, several dog monsters, a creature composed almost entirely of teeth. But they all couldn’t compare to the monster you found out is owner of the bar - a being made entirely of fire, of heat, of flickering light and warm, burning motion. It would have been easier to pursue one of the other patrons; it wouldn’t have entailed waiting in any way, shape or form. You could have just left with the monster of your choice. But for the owner of the bar, you had to wait until all the other patrons filed out.

You’re the last one still here, and that’s exactly what you wanted.

Grillby finishes cleaning the glass in his hands and stacks it carefully on the shelf where he keeps all the drinking glasses and bottles he uses for his alcoholic beverages, before starting on the next. That’s another thing you appreciate about this bar - the drinks are new. Whenever you frequent one of the many human bars in this town, you basically know the menu like the back of your hand. But here? It’s all new. Monster alcohol adds a new component even to drinks you already know, which means that there’s a plethora of new options for you to explore. Even if you don’t walk out of this with a new date, you’d still say that you enjoyed yourself.

Of course, that doesn’t mean that you intend to waste this opportunity.

You were so patient when you waited for the last of the regulars to file out, and now it’s just you and Grillby. You’re not going to waste this.

“You must be closing up soon, right?” You ask the fiery monster, your gaze half lidded. 

Grillby regards you and the glass in front of you critically, but eventually nods. You give him a challenging smile.

“Good,” you purr. “Can I help you?”

“...help?”

“Yes,” you whisper. “I could… lock the doors. Lower the blinds. Make sure we have some privacy,” you suggest with a wide smile.

Grillby stares at you. His face is a mask of fire, but interestingly enough you’re still more than capable of making out his expressions. He’s eyeing your drink, your face, your chest, your waist.

He’s attracted to you.

Your little game has been getting to him. 

You allow your eyes to roam over the sharp lines of his jaw, the flickering contrast between his neck and his chest, the well-defined shape of his upper body and muscular arms. You bite your lower lip, flicking your eyes back up to the bright white pips that function as his eyes, catching the attraction there when he focuses on your mouth before looking back into your eyes. 

You hold his gaze. Keep it trapped with the intent in your own eyes. 

“How about I help you close up,” you suggest. “And then we have a little rendezvous. And see where the evening takes us.” 

“...a date?” he asks.

“Yes, a date,” you smile. 

You have no idea if something long-term would come out of this. You never do when you’re on the prowl. But based on your sheer attraction to him and the way he keeps looking at you, you would say that you have potential. 

Grillby places his cleaning cloth aside and for the first time tonight, you get to see him smile back. 

“I agree.” 

You grin at him, happy that your plan worked, and get up to make it a reality.


	5. Roommate Dates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why's this chapter longer? Sans is highly smoochable. That's why. 
> 
>  
> 
> [You can regularly vote on which of my fics I should work on next on my tumblr!](https://rehlia.tumblr.com/)

You close the door to your flat behind you and try not to fall over as you do so.

Maybe, just maybe, you should’ve stopped after drink number two. Instead of, you know, continuing with drink three, four and five. What can you say, you were a little bit frustrated. For reasons.

From the living room, you hear the usual noises of Sans playing on his console, though you can’t guess what he’s playing from here. Your roommate likes a quiet night in just as much as he likes hanging out with people. Since you had been invited to a birthday party by one of your human friends tonight and there were no other monsters invited, Sans had declined your invitation to accompany you. You couldn’t blame him.

Monsters were still not entirely welcomed everywhere.

There were a lot of people side eyeing the two of you for sharing an apartment, and you’d had to defend yourself from rude comments and other nasty stuff from your neighbors already. Stuff like your laundry or mail getting stolen or thrown into the trash, or said trash emptied out on the doorstep. Never anything dangerous or too conspicuous, always something that could have been done by any random idiot walking through, the security wasn’t too great in this place after all.

So, yeah.

With that kind of racism employed by humans, you get why Sans hadn’t wanted to come. But it also kind of sucks because you like going out to party with him. He’s fun.

You like sharing a flat with him too and fuck all your neighbors and anyone else who has a problem with that.

Kicking your shoes into a corner next to the door, you wobble your way into the living room. The lights are off, the entire room only lit by the flickering light from the TV, basking it in a soft, static kind of blue. It falls on Sans like it belongs there, that light, matching the colour of his hoodie and what you’ve seen so far of his magic. He seems pretty focused on his game, eye lights dim and content and not moving from their positions while his delicate phalanges operate the buttons of the controller with a precision that traps your eyes on them for a moment.

“hey,” he mumbles, still not looking up when you sit down next to him on the couch, drawing your feet up. He has a blanket spread over his legs that he allows you to tug over you as well when you scoot closer to him.

It’s comfy.

“What’re you playing?” you inquire, your words slurring into each other.

“dunno, some kind of rpg. forgot the title. alph gave it to me.”

You hum thoughtfully, watching the screen through half-lidded eyes. Under the blanket, sharing the body heat with him, the lingering chill from the outside is chased away quickly and you’re starting to relax. The leftover buzz from the alcohol and the low sounds from the game have a lulling effect, but the flickering light prevents you from actually falling asleep.

It’s just pleasantly soothing and comfortable.

For a while, you watch him play. You occasionally sneak a few gulps of the soda he has stashed next to him, steal some of his nachos. You leave the ketchup alone though. Not just because that would make him mad. You also don’t get how he can drink the stuff, because yuck. It helps sober you up a little, so it’s not because of the alcohol when you lean against him.

You just want to.

Because he’s nice and hard and warm and he smells good. And his hoodie is soft and everything is comfy.

The best thing is how he lets you, settles against you even and just continues playing as if it’s nothing. You have a great view of his deft fingers from this vantage point. They make soft clicking sounds each time they hit a button. It’s very distracting.

Not because of the sound itself, just…

Yeah.

You look away from his hands before your imagination really gets going. What’s this game even about, let’s look at that instead. You see some sort of spiky anime character with freakishly giant feet and a really big sword that looks wonky and like a key. There’s zippers everywhere. Disney characters surround the anime kid and fight against colourful shadow monsters.

Pretty trippy.

“Is this fun?” you wonder.

“yeah,” he says, and you can feel the little motion that’s a half aborted shrug, him wanting to shrug fully but stopping because he doesn’t want to jostle your head that has ever so slowly appropriated some space on his shoulder. He’s bony but honestly you don’t really mind.

You can feel his bones shift as he breathes.

The two of you are almost in synch.

“was the party fun?” Sans eventually asks, during one of the calmer parts of the game, after he has saved.

“It was okay,” you allow, leaving out that you constantly missed him because you kept making all the puns you learned from him but nobody around really appreciated them and everyone just looked awkward and it made you feel lonely. Then people had started making out as everyone got more drunk and you had allowed some guy to go as far as sticking his tongue into your mouth and get a feel of your ass before you had shoved him away and claimed you felt sick and that you’d leave because of that.

Truth was though, he had just felt too fleshy for your current tastes.

That was a problem you never had before.

But, what can you say. Living in close proximity with Sans has done things to you. He’s casual and calm and relaxed and funny. He’s a bit of a little shit and keeps making those dumb jokes that you secretly love but society has deemed lame, and he loves it when you make them back. He misses his brother who’s studying and keeps rambling about how awesome the guy is and you find that genuine love and admiration for his sibling incredibly endearing. Sans makes the best quiches and pies. He gets a new recipe from his buddy the queen of monsters regularly (because wow this guy has friends in high places, what the fuck). But otherwise he has really weird tastes in food and will eat almost anything. He plays the trombone, badly, and uses it to make you laugh at yourself instead of cry when something goes wrong in your life. He’s a good roommate and an even better friend.

And he smells good. And looks good.

And he has these amazing, nimble hands.

So to put it simply, you have a huge fucking awkward crush on him and the fact that he’s a skeleton isn’t deterring you one bit, which, wow. What the fuck.

The thing is, you tried to repress it because you already have enough trouble to deal with from your neighbors and everyone else who doesn’t like the two of you living together. But then there are all these moments that keep happening, where the two of you randomly end up in each other’s personal space and freeze, staring at each other while neither of you dares to make a move.

That doesn’t help.

At all.

You tilt your head back far enough that you can look at his profile while still resting your head on his shoulder. His skull is round and looks smooth and shiny and, weirdly enough, sort of squishy. It’s definitely bone, but he somehow manages to have a babyface in spite of that, all rounded corners and soft lines, with a short stubby nasal bone and huge wide eye sockets with those lights inside. Only his teeth destroy that image, big and blunt and present in a constant grin. It’s hard to say if he smiles because he’s a skeleton or because he wants to.

Given that you’ve seen variations in the expression, you suspect the latter.

“what,” he asks. His eyes still haven’t left the screen, but he must have felt you looking at him.

“Nothing.”

“hm.”

He keeps playing for a bit and then pauses the game. Turns his head to look at you.

You stare at each other.

“are you drunk?” he asks quietly, his voice low and gentle.

“Not as much as I was when I came in,” you say clearly after a brief self-assessment. Sans says nothing in return, just watches your face like a hawk. That’s something he does sometimes. He’s pretty good at reading people.

Whatever he finds there seems to satisfy him because his expression relaxes and the lights in his eyes grow fuzzy. You don’t know why they do that sometimes, but you like it. You think it’s cute. His breath is warm against your lips. He's so close. Your faces are so close to each other, barely an inch separating you.

He leans forwards exactly in the moment where you wish he would kiss you.

You meet him by turning your head a bit more, without actually lifting it from his shoulder. What can you say, the soft fabric of his hoodie covering his shoulder feels pretty nice against your skin.

It's kind of weird because he's all teeth. He doesn't have lips. The ridges surrounding his teeth can move, so it's not just you pressing your lips against enamel. But in the end, it’s still just… bone. That moves. Somehow.

Yeah, you’re not gonna question this.

This is a beautifully cliched instance of months of mutual pining unloading themselves into a half-drunk, half-drowsy makeout session on your ratty old living room couch, and fuck you if you’re not going to indulge.

You bring one hand up to cling to Sans shoulder, and he places one of his own on the back of your neck, pulling you even closer while he licks your lips. There’s a quiet noise making its way straight from his mouth into yours when your tongues touch and Sans’ hand flexes on your neck. His tongue feels soft and smooth and a bit wetter than what you’re used to, in a good way. You shiver, pressing yourself closer to him.

When he draws back, his face is open and soft in a way you’ve never seen it before. 

“do you… do want to…” 

“Yes,” you say before he even finishes. “I want to date you.” 

Sans always smiles. It’s his default expression. 

But this is one of those times where you can tell it’s a true one.


	6. School Board Dates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hot for teacher. Not your teacher. Just that beautiful goat lady teacher. 
> 
> [You can regularly vote on which of my fics I should work on next on my tumblr!](https://rehlia.tumblr.com/)

Toriel sits down at her desk with a small sigh. You're not sure you would have heard it if you hadn't been so attuned to her every little noise already.

“I suppose this could have been worse,” she declares, rifling through the stack of papers in front of her.

“The board meeting did seem a little tense,” you point out. You're not on the school board yourself, but you do like to attend as a member of the public for the open meetings. You like to know what's going on in the school your kids go to, after all.

That, and you like to see Toriel, if you're honest with yourself.

“Nothing I cannot handle,” she tells you with a smile, finally setting her papers aside. “But let us not waste any more time. I do not want to keep you for longer than necessary when you are already willing to meet me so late.”

“It's really no trouble at all,” you assure her. “After all, it's my kids who caused you trouble.”

“They are very… energetic,” Toriel says carefully, taking the opening you've given her while still trying to be diplomatic.

“They're brats,” you shrug with a guilty half-smile. “It’s okay to say it. I love them, but know they are. I spoiled them too much when they were younger and now everyone gets to reap what I sowed. I'm trying to fix it, I assure you. The divorce didn't really help.”

“I know what that feels like,” Toriel chuckles. Her voice is honey-warm and smooth, and sends a shiver down your spine.

It's always so easy to talk to her. It feels so good. Not just because she doesn't judge you for your divorce like the other mothers at school do. Not just because she apparently went through something similar. Not just because she's very understanding and caring, just like you imagine a good teacher should be. But also because even in professional settings like this, there's this twinkle of humour in her words and eyes. As if she's just waiting for a punchline to laugh out loud to.

You really wish you could be the one to make her laugh like that.

You've been mooning over her for a while now. She has a great personality, a lot in common with you, and she's very beautiful. Impossible not to notice her that way, really. Sometimes you get the feeling that it's not so onesided, that she's checking you out too or that there's this tension building between you. It's nothing you'd act on though, having convinced yourself it's just wishful thinking on your side. You're just another divorced middle aged single mom with two bratty kids, what would she ever see in you? You don't want to compromise the easy companionship you've managed to establish with her in the many meetings you've had to have with her over your little terrors.

The two of you spend a while discussing their latest mishaps and disciplinary to coordinate so they'll know they can't keep acting this way. The two of you hope that if there's a coherent approach, your kids will notice that there's a fresh wind blowing in this town, that they'll have to behave or else. At the same time, it will hopefully provide them with consistency and structure that they've been lacking while you were spoiling them and then in the aftermath of your messy divorce. Hopefully, they'll be able to settle down with that. After you and Toriel worked out an approach, you easily slip into other topics without really noticing. You tell her about your plans for a side business to realise your aspirations and hopefully support your family better, she tells you about a funny anecdote with her monster friends.

The atmosphere is comfortable and relaxing. You're both leaning forwards, completely engrossed in your conversation. Toriel is gesticulating animated as she talks, her smile growing until it makes the corners of her eyes crinkle and her fuzzy nose twitch. It's very cute. Very attractive. You join in with her chuckles when she reaches the punchline of her anecdote, but you have to admit the majority of your attention is focused on admiring her.

There's a brief moment of quiet where the last giggles fade out and the two of you merely smile at each other, look at each other, enjoy each other's company. Lean in further.

Further…

You startle badly when you suddenly notice that you're close enough to feel her breath on your face, to see the details on the tick rim of lashes surrounding her warm red eyes.

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…” you sentence ends before you really get it started as you stumble over what to say. Justifications run through your head - it would be unprofessional, you don't even know if she wants this, you're just a middle aged mom of two with nothing special to offer in team of beauty or talent or -

“I will not pressure you of course,” Toriel says quietly. “But it seems to me that you are just as interested in me as I am in you…”

“I… what?” That catches you off guard. Sure, you noticed those moments of tension between you, but you never would have thought that she'd reciprocate your interest!

“I have been watching you for a while,” she tells you with a gentle smile. The spark in her eyes is back. “You are a very attractive woman. So when you leaned over just as I did, I was hoping we might… perhaps go out together, and see where it leads us?” 

“You really want to go on a date with me?” You feel completely floored. Despite having felt something between you before, you never would have expected her to make a move so openly. 

“I realise this might be unprofessional and sudden…” 

“No, no, it’s fine! I would love to! Really! I… I’ve been thinking about you for a while now, honestly,” you admit with a blush. 

Toriel laughs, a wonderful sound that you’ve been so desperate to hear. She stands up and holds out her hand for you. 

“Then, since our meeting is concluded… shall we?” 

You’ve never been so fast to get up from a chair.


End file.
